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"No," he said gravely, "I expected it."
I relinquished the piece of paper, and watched him put it away in his case,
with the same methodical care that he bestowed on everything. My brain
was in a whirl. What was this complication of a will? Who had destroyed it?
The person who had left the candle grease on the floor? Obviously. But how
had anyone gained admission? All the doors had been bolted on the inside.
"Now, my friend," said Poirot briskly, "we will go. I should like to ask a few
questions of the parlourmaid--Dorcas, her name is, is it not?"
We passed through Alfred Inglethorp's room, and Poirot delayed long enough
to make a brief but fairly comprehensive examination of it. We went out
through that door, locking both it and that of Mrs. Inglethorp's room as
before.
I took him down to the boudoir which he had expressed a wish to see, and
went myself in search of Dorcas.
When I returned with her, however, the boudoir was empty.
"
Poirot," I cried, "where are you?"
I am here, my friend."
"
He had stepped outside the French window, and was standing, apparently
lost in admiration, before the various shaped flower beds.
"Admirable!" he murmured. "Admirable! What symmetry! Observe that
crescent; and those diamonds--their neatness rejoices the eye. The spacing
of the plants, also, is perfect. It has been recently done; is it not so?"
"Yes, I believe they were at it yesterday afternoon. But come in--Dorcas is
here."
"
"
"
Eh bien, eh bien! Do not grudge me a moment's satisfaction of the eye."
Yes, but this affair is more important."
And how do you know that these fine begonias are not of equal
importance?"
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